Church of England
by Fawe
Summary: SG-1 travel to a new planet where they find themselves in a spot of bother. With sincere apologies to Eddie Izzard.


As the stargate shimmered closed behind them, SG-1 stood at the top of the ramp and looked around. To Sam, Jack and Teal'c the landscape around them did not look particularly out of the ordinary; just another alien settlement, surrounded by rolling hills. On one of the hills, turf and part of the ground had been cut from the living rock to leave the shape of a great white animal. With a little imagination, it was possible to see the animal as a horse. From a spired building not too far from the gate, a peal of bells rang out. Beyond it, thirteen white-clad figures were spaced around a large field, two of them holding wooden clubs of some sort. Near one of them stood another figure wearing a white coat and black trousers. Another such man stood a few yards away from the other figure with the club, looking towards him.

Daniel, who had travelled more extensively on Earth than any of his team-mates, saw at once what was wrong with the picture. While SG-1 had encountered many civilisations which were obviously descended from ancient Earth civilisations, walking out of the stargate into what was quite clearly an English village in the shade of an exact replica of the Uffington White Horse was quite definitely new. And made no sense; while many Englishmen will speak at length about cricket and about how the cricketing spirit and philosophy made England great, there are few who would claim that the game in its modern form had been around since before the stargate on Earth was buried.

"Erm, excuse me," a nervous-looking middle-aged man dressed in flannel had approached them, "But as a senior member of the Parish Council I am obliged to inform you that as it is a Sunday, the Lord's day, with the exception of church and cricket all forms of activity are strongly discouraged, including appearing mysteriously through large circles. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come with me."

Jack was, for once, temporarily at a loss for words. This was not a familiar sort of welcome. He looked over at Daniel.

"Uh, Jack, this area is reminiscent of mid-twentieth century southern England. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to annoy the Parish Council. We should follow him."

The Council member was clearly relieved to hear this, and beckoned SG-1 towards the spired building which Daniel felt it was now safe to assume was the church. As they passed the cottage next to it, the man leaned over a hedge and spoke to someone who was apparently on the ground behind it.

"Vicar, some people just came through the big circle. I'm taking them to the church."

The man addressed as Vicar stood up. He was wearing a clerical collar, and in his right hand he held a trowel and in his left a clump of weeds. Apparently weeding the hedgerow did not count as activity.

"Oh dear. Thankyou, Mr Collins, I'll be along presently."

The interior of the church was entirely like that of churches in BBC costume dramas, with one exception. Beside the font was a large, comfortable-looking armchair, next to which stood a table with a couple of small plates on it.

The sound of the door closing behind them made the team look round. The vicar had entered, carrying in front of him a large, covered plate. A pleasing smell wafted from it towards the team, but years of experience with strange first contact situations made them refrain from asking what it was.

The vicar put the plate down on the table, and turned to face SG-1. He pointed at Sam.

"If the young lady would be so kind as to take a seat. I'm terribly sorry about all this, but it really is necessary, I assure you. You travelled through the circle on a Sunday, after all, and that's not something we can take likely, I'm afraid."

Daniel started to speak, "I'm sorry if we offended your customs, but where we come from it's a Tues-"

"You will have your turn, sir. Madam?"

Sam looked at Jack, who shrugged. "Comfy chair, few questions, what could be wrong with that?" Even as he spoke though, it occurred to him that something was strange about the situation. Something he'd heard once when sharing a camp with an SAS unit. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, though.

Sam sat down. The vicar stood in front of her, while Mr Collins took up position by the table.

The vicar drew himself up straight and pointed dramatically at Sam. "You! Cake or Death?"

Sam stared at him, eyes wide. She then stared at Daniel, who stared back at her. Looking at Jack, she got the same response.

"Uh, Cake, please?" she hazarded.

"Very well! Give her cake!"

Mr Collins removed the covering from the plate on the table, to reveal a few slabs of large, iced sponge cake. He selected a generous slice, put it on a small plate with a cake fork, and handed it to Sam. At Daniel's urgent nodding, she picked up the fork and ate a mouthful.

"Thanks very much. It's very nice."

The vicar motioned to Sam to get up, with her cake, and pointed to Jack. "If you would be so kind, sir."

Mystified, and aware of what had happened to him another time he had eaten cake on a strange planet but unable to do anything about it at this time, Jack sat down.

"You! Cake or Death?"

"Uh, Cake for me too please."

"Very well! Give him cake too!" The vicar added, sotto voce as Mr Collins selected another slice, "We're going to run out cake at this rate."

Daniel was up next. Unfortunately for him, his mind was whirring so much that he didn't really focus on what he was saying.

"You! Cake or Death!"

"Death, please. No! Cake, cake, cake, sorry."

"You said Death first! Aaaaaaaaah, death first death first!" The vicar was acting almost like a schoolboy in many ways. The situation was definitely bordering on the surreal, Jack felt.

"No I meant Cake."

"Oh all right." The vicar smiled. "You're lucky I'm Church of England." Daniel was given a slice of cake and allowed to stand up. Teal'c took his place in the comfy chair.

"You! Cake or Death?"

"Cake, please." Teal'c was not allowing his natural calmness to be disrupted by the strange circumstances. The vicar and Mr Collins both looked impressed, then suddenly the vicar looked disappointed.

"Well, we're out of cake. We only had three bits and we didn't expect such a rush. So what do you want?"

"So my choice is 'Or Death'?" There was a long pause in which nobody spoke. "Well, I'll have the chicken then please."

Jack couldn't help it any more. He burst out laughing.


End file.
